


search party of one

by hydrangeamaiden



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dragons, Elemental Magic, Gen, High Fantasy, Magic, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:07:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24582790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydrangeamaiden/pseuds/hydrangeamaiden
Summary: Snow, a young ice elemental, goes into the wilderness in search of a missing woman.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm listening to the Adventure Zone as I publish this so I'm super distracted oops. I can't remember what the name of the town is OOPS I hope this doesn't come across as bare-bones or anything because I've been thinking nonstop about Snow since I created her in 2007

Snow hadn’t been sent to the oratory because she was strong, brave, or even particularly smart—though actually _was_ brave, and fancied herself as being clever for her age. No, Witch Ceridwen had only sent her there because of how high her perception was in regards to higher beings. If something, someone, or some place had a divine touch, Snow would be the first to know.

It was, honestly, not a useful skill outside of such highly specific errands, though Ceridwen said that that was only the case because none of them knew how to apply it to actually performing magic. Snow would’ve been content with remaining in her domain of traditional, elemental magic. Seth had already pitched a few ideas, guessing at what she wanted to be when she grew up: something with boats, perhaps? At twelve years old, Snow already knew how to navigate the ocean on a canoe, _by herself_. He’d lent her his binoculars for today’s quest. On him they bounced against his broad chest when he walked, but on her they dangled to her stomach and hit her at odd angles. She ended up taking them off halfway to her destination, and put them in her rucksack.

“It’ll be easy for you,” Ceridwen said. “You just need to find that lost villager and bring them back home. In and out. Do you have the photo I gave you?”

Snow looked down at it then, taking in the rather ordinary features of a Colithian girl: white, but not as white as her, goat ears the same brown-black as her hair, a pair of glasses that take up half her face. One of her eyes is lighter than the other, which is her only distinct feature. The writing on the back of the photo details her name, occupation, and the last place she had been seen. This girl—Isabelle—doesn’t look like the adventuring type. The photo was taken in a bar or lounge of some sort, with the subject half-sunken into a couch with a glass in one hand.

It was pretty reasonable to everyone, Snow included, that a person could be a location, and therefore she could get from point A to point B as she always had. The oratory was point A, Isabelle point B. She’d find Isabelle, hopefully intact, and bring her back to the village. It was that simple.

Except now that she stood outside this place of worship, she was not so sure. If point B wasn’t a location, coordinates, what have you, things got a little messy.

Snow didn’t like messy. Not in the way Seth disliked it—poor Seth, to whom things were never clean enough. No, it was just that bad things tended to happen if point B was an abstract concept. Take for example, ‘somewhere safe’. She’d most likely run into danger along the way. Something more specific, like ‘a cafe with bubble tea’ yields better results.

But what would she know? Coming from across the ocean was the only time she had used her ability to travel across a long distance.

The waves of frigid air she gave off caused pedestrians to wandered close to her, subconsciously seeking out a respite from the late spring-early summer heat. It was unseasonably warm, and she hoped she was going somewhere indoors today. With the straps of her rucksack pulled tight, the backpacker began her hike.

A villager recognized her, called out to her, and smiled when she waved back. She cut through a grassy lot and hugged the adjacent wall to avoid the children kicking a ball around. Once away from their revelry, she took off down a side road—not the exact path Isabelle took, but in that general direction. There was the bridge she liked, the one under the willow tree. As she padded across, a dragonfly swooped down and over her head.

Snow expected her internal compass would take her deeper into the village, maybe towards the railroads, so she was surprised when she instead drifted towards the southern gate. She had never been wrong before, but today, she wishes she was.

Predictably, the guards stopped her before she reached the bridge. In colder months they would’ve been cloaked in steel, but today they had only got their tough leather armor, enchanted for extra sturdiness. She recognized in passing some of the markings carved upon the breastplates and shoulder pads.

“Sorry, we can’t let anyone through,” said the bulkier of the two. He knelt to match her height, and noticed the backpack she wore. “Are you looking for Candle Trail? You’ll reach it faster if you turn back and go north through the plaza.”

Snow shook her head and produced the photo. The guard made a questioning noise at this, drawing the attention of his fellow. Once they had both gotten a good look at Isabelle, Snow turned the picture over and tapped the last line, detailing where she was last seen. The guards looked at each other.

“That’s the woman who went missing two days ago,” said the other guard, a beanpole of a man with beaked nose. “Do you know her?”

Snow shook her head again. Lying and claiming acquaintance might’ve made her look more credible, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. Anyway, she was supposed to keep herself in the good graces of the townsfolk.

“Mmm.” The first guard rubbed the stubble on his chin. It was becoming apparent that Snow wasn’t getting her message across. She tapped the photo a bit impatiently, then pointed past the southern gate.

“We can’t let you pass,” said the guard. “I get that you want to help—I really do—but there are animals out there we haven’t identified yet. They could be dangerous. And the miasma, well, we can’t have anyone bringing it back into the town.”

Which was fair enough. As Snow was walking away from the gate, she heard a long grinding of stone that was punctuated by a thick _bang_. She didn’t have to look back to know that the guards had sealed the gates, probably to keep more prying villagers from coming near. Doing that the moment someone showed interest in going into the south in particular was some kind of ordinance, she recalled, but it hadn’t hurt to try.

Once she was out of their sight, instead of going the way they had suggested, she veered right and up a wide set of stairs. On either side were the entrances to residential areas, kept away from the steps proper by small landings. Snow stopped by one to pet a plump cat that was sunbathing. How she would’ve liked to join it—the sunlight was weak enough for her to tolerate—but alas, she had work to do.

At this time of day, most of the townsfolk were out working, or enjoying themselves in the town center or the trimmed little park at the canals. Snow didn’t see many people as she ascended the residential block, not outside at least. If it were up to her, she would’ve been back at the castle in her own air-conditioned bubble, not in the increasingly itchy, uncomfortable heat.

But once she had a trail, she couldn’t put it down. It would have been just as bad as an itch. She knew that Isabelle’s trajectory was just past the gate, and she had to make it over the wall without anyone noticing. If only the missing girl had gone north! She had seen children walking atop the wall there, and they had only gotten scolded for being up too high. Seth would’ve suggested going north and looping around, but this way was faster.

Snow ducked into a narrow gap between two houses and squeezed her way through. The adobe walls gave way to tall, open grass, and from there, flower bushes and the imposing stone wall. Runes and other symbols she didn’t recognize glinted on its surface. It wasn’t like the crumbling rock and cobblestone of the castle, which had fallen to decay; this was a sheer, smooth slab that would be impossible for her to climb normally.

Technically, she could get over anyway. It wasn’t like there was an invisible barrier that blocked people from leaving—that was hard to perfect without accidentally shutting out the air. When she first learned about that in her history lessons, she couldn’t sleep that night. When she finally passed out next afternoon, she was plagued with nightmares about suffocating in bed.

Anyway, she lifted off the ground and hovered over the wall like a dandelion seed. It was that simple, and if anyone saw her, they couldn’t be bothered to stop her. And just like that, she disappeared into the south forest.


	2. Chapter 2

The Southern Forest, henceforth referred to in capitalization, was tall, wild, and did not care that a village had formed on its outskirts. It was not under the Knight of Luluto’s domain. When Snow first arrived at Gunmetal Peak, she sensed a far more obscure deity or guardian inhabiting it. She did not sense it now as she walked along the path, which was made of dirt and too narrow for caravans or cars or even two horses side by side. The closest city in this direction was Silvermire, which would have taken several hours by train.

In short, she was eternally grateful that Isabelle was not headed to Silvermire. It was almost a relief that she went off trail and to the east. Snow was now walking adjacent to the wall, close enough that she could reach out and touch the polished stone. She saw her reflection in it and took in the furrow of her brow, the way her ears flicked at each distant sound. No one was around to see her, but she fixed her ponytail anyway and kept going.

She was following what she assumed was Isabelle’s exact path, but it felt more like those dotted lines that, in drawings, represented the path of a bumblebee. The needle of Snow’s internal compass pointed southeast. It was faster to proceed as if following a trajectory straight in that direction, instead of the erratic path the missing woman had taken.

Two miles out from town, Snow came across what might’ve been a river once. It wove through the woods and was about as wide and deep as she’d expect a river to be. Isabelle’s path crossed directly across this mineral-encrusted gulch, but there was no bridge in sight.

Snow wasn’t sure if Isabelle could fly or not, but before she could consider it, she heard something scrape against the rocks. She neared the edge of the gulch to inspect it, and saw some kind of crustacean moving sideways across the wall. It had about eight legs on each side, each tipped with a sore-looking red barb. It had no visible eyes, but a plethora of gemstones on its back.

It was also about as long as she was tall, which wasn’t much for a person, but a whole lot for a crab.

As fond as Snow was of animals, ones that were as big or bigger than her made her nervous. She backed away so she could have a running start over the gap. In that moment she was weightless; her scarf wrapped around her and took on the appearance of wings, or sails, carrying her through the air like a bird. The crab noticed and cried out sharply, lunging and missing by several feet. Snow landed neatly on the other side and looked over her shoulder to see the creature hissing and spitting at her.

* * *

_About a month ago, Ceridwen was in one of those moods where she didn’t want anyone in her chambers. Snow was supposed to train with her that day, but vines had grown so thickly over the door that she thought it had just disappeared. So, she loitered outside the bathroom and waited for Seth to finish filing his claws. When she told him what was up, he just snorted and shook his head._

_“Typical,” he had said. “Wanna take a field trip?”_

_They had set off from the castle grounds in the early morning, each with a rucksack on their backs and goose flesh on their arms. They didn’t bring sweaters; they knew it’d get warmer the longer the sun was in the sky._

_About a mile out into the moorlands, Seth threw his bag onto a rock and rubbed his hands together. There was a herd of moss elk grazing not far from where they set up camp, undisturbed. Among the Cervidae family, they were among the largest. They could easily camouflage themselves as huge, mossy boulders if they wished. Their antlers were long and laced with vines and lichen. Seth would’ve come up to their shoulders if he stood among them, and Snow regarded him as one of the tallest people she knew (though 5’7” will look massive to anyone who is at least a foot shorter)._

_Snow sidled behind Seth and grabbed the back of his shirt. He looked over her shoulder and asked, “What’s wrong?”_

_Snow pointed to the herd._

_“The elk? Yeah, they’re pretty big.” The plumed end of his tail wagged, the way it always did when he got an idea. “Alright, here’s today’s lesson: go over and pet one.”_

_Snow jumped away and scowled at him. If she had a tail herself, it’d be lashing back and forth like a cat about to pounce. She was nowhere near intimidating, though, and Seth’s smile was all teeth. He said, “Come on. You’ve pet a bison before.”_

_Snow frowned and gestured to indicate that the bison were far smaller than a moss elk. She glanced nervously at the tallest of them, which had tree saplings growing out of its back._

_“Look. They’re super docile,” Seth reassured her. “At least try. I can’t just go back and tell Ceridwen we did nothing all day.”_

_Snow sighed in an exaggerated fashion, and walked over. She was no closer than ten feet when they all looked at her in unison, and moved away from her. Even at a trot, their hooves practically thundered against the earth. She looked back at Seth, but he just gestured for her to go on._

_She had chased the herd around for roughly five minutes before one of the elk snorted and separated from the group. It took off across the moorlands, and that triggered the rest of them into bolting as well. Snow tromped back, panting and exasperated, to where Seth was sitting on the rock. She threw her arms out, and let them fall to her sides with a slap._

_“See? Super docile.” Seth fished some jerky out of his bag and offered her half. “Ninety-nine percent of the time, wild animals will be more scared of you than you are of them.”_

_Snow held up one finger, head canted to the side. And the other one percent?_

_“Well, the most common reason an animal is aggressive is that it’s territorial, or it’s got young nearby,” Seth explained. “It might also be sick, or possessed. The best way to tell is the eyes.”_

_He pointed to his own hazel eyes. “But yeah, nothing to be afraid of. Just respect the animals you meet, and they’ll respect you in turn.”_

* * *

Snow couldn’t make the connection between Seth having her chase wild animals, and learning how to be respectful of them. What she came away with was that animals felt the same things that people did. That knowledge wasn’t something Snow was born with, even though her scarf allowed her to move through the sea and sky the way the birds and seals of her birthplace did. Most of the time, she even had trouble understanding what other people were feeling.

She stood there, watching the crab work itself into a frenzy, and remembered what Seth had said about aggression in wild animals. She squinted and tried to get a look at its eyes, but its whole body seemed crusted over by its protective, natural covering.

It definitely wasn’t a good idea to stay within its line of sight, and she had a trail to follow. After adjusting the straps on her rucksack, she went on her way. She wanted to think that it was protecting a clutch of eggs, but her mind reliably jumped to the worst possible conclusions. She easily imagined a fungal blight, rabies, restless ghosts of person and beast alike whose graves had been disturbed by a landslide.

By the end of the hour, she was still worrying about it. Clouds crept over the horizon to shield her from the worst of the late morning’s heat. The drop in temperature was not enough to stop the air from cooling and condensing around Snow herself, and each breath she took was as white and wispy as a mid-winter day. Her legs could keep up with the bumpy terrain, but her lungs ran ragged, and soon she would have to set up camp and rest.

She crested a hill that overlooked a stream, and set to work making a small clearing. She cleared out all the brush and branches that she could. The dirt was loamy and easy to carve a pit into, which she then lined with rocks she had gathered in her skirt. Now came the tricky part. She knelt before the divot and retrieved an amber-colored stone with what looked like opaque bubbles in the center. The sharp end was to go into the earth, which was easy enough, but the thought of activating it made her hands shake.

She had to press her thumb to the flat of the crystal and channel her intent. It was that easy with premade spells, but fire worried her for good reasons. An ice elemental like her could sustain serious burns or even infections if something went wrong.

Snow had to calm herself with deep breaths, and by reminding herself that her camping supplies were meant for children who were camping or adventuring for the first time. She had once before survived with no cooking fire and no provisions, so this should be fine. Besides, she loved camping. It’s just that Seth was always the one who started the fire…

Sparks flew from the crystal, and Snow drew her hand back with a squeak. A small flame in the shape of her thumbprint sprang up right as she did that, soon filling the pit with swirling red flames. Snow clutched her hand to her chest, but when the burning pain did not come, her shoulders relaxed.

The fire was easier to bear with a cooking plate over it. Snow doled out sausages, mushroom caps, and veggies onto the simmering surface. In true Snow fashion, she didn’t realize that the smell might draw out wild animals until the food was already cooked through. This made for a nervous meal, in which she kept turning about so she could see all around the edge of the clearing. She heard bird songs and snapping twigs, but saw nothing until she was almost finished eating.

She was down to her last sausage when the brush parted, and a bluff cat stepped into the clearing. Her heart froze when she saw it: not only were bluff cats notoriously elusive, they were also nocturnal. One appearing in broad daylight in front of a person was unheard of. Both its heads had the same dark grayish coloring, and the eyes on its left head were green. The right head’s eyes were glassy lavender, and one black pupil had shifted out of place. It lolled, and Snow feared that one of it’s necks had broken. But then she noticed the crystals poking out of its skin, same as the crab’s.

It circled the clearing with a limp as silently as a ghost, and Snow held her breath. The fire pit danced and spit embers behind her. A few flicks of candlelight flames would scare it away, if she were a fire elemental, but as it stood, she would only burn herself and cause a fire.

The bluff cat neared the fire to sniff her footprints. It lifted its left head and made eye contact with her. At this close a distance, Snow could see a trace of bloody foam on its right set of jaws. It was sick. Very sick. There was this pungent smell coming from its fur that made the sausage on her plate look suddenly unappealing. She pinched the meat between her forefinger and thumb and tossed it in the cat’s direction.

It was like pushing a button. The bluff cat’s ears pricked, and it set upon its meal with almost comical snarfing sounds. It was only _almost_ funny, because its right head was wheezing up strings of blood and didn’t look interested in eating at all. While it was occupied, Snow brushed dirt and sand over the fire. In the time it took for the crystal to cool down, she wrapped up her utensils and stuck them back into the backpack. Isabelle’s trail was due south of here, said her internal map, towards Brine Caverns.

Its right head was now twitching and gnashing its teeth, and Snow desperately wanted to go home. She dug the now-cool crystal out of the dirt, pocketed it, and was just about to stand up when the cat cried out to her.

It wasn’t the meow of a housecat, but a low, gurgling moan. Snow watched, wide-eyed, as the cat stumbled towards her. It collapsed at her knees, where it proceeded to cough up some bile from its left mouth. Another small, sharp crystal grew from one of its paw pads, ensuring that it would not get up again. Snow clapped a hand over her mouth. She would’ve cried too if she could. Her only obligation was to find Isabelle and bring her home, but did that mean leaving an animal behind to suffer? Her anxiety over touching a possibly contagious animal and being bitten battled the fondness of the house pets and strays she saw in her village.

Snow removed her over shirt and bent down to wrap up the bluff cat. It was large for a cat, and heavy in her thin arms. The fabric would at least act as a buffer from those sharp crystals.

The bluff cat’s right head shook and snarled until the left head gave it a nip and a warning cry. It was commonly debated whether a bluff cat was one creature or two, and not even communing magic gave people a clear answer. For simplicity’s sake, Snow decided to regard it as just one animal, and tied the shirt sling to her front. She now felt terribly burdened, but there was nothing else to do and no one else to carry it for her. She would just have to hold out until she made it to Brine Caverns, where there was allegedly a small settlement, a clinic, and—apparently—Isabelle.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UGH, it took me six months just to finish a thousand words. This sucks, this only happens when I write original stuff :( I think I'll spread this out, just because it's easier for me to write multiple short chapters than a single long one.

At a glance, it might’ve looked like the people of Brine Caverns had lost their minds and settled near a cave instead of a body of water. However, any experienced geologist could take one look at the earth and tell you there’s a subterranean lake underneath. Such lakes and rivers were relatively pristine and, in the tumultuous ancient past, more difficult to capture because of their sheltered locations. It was common practice both then and now to have the entrance to the cavern at the heart of a village, and then build around it.

Snow carried the bluff cat into the settlement, expecting a bustling town that might even have a railroad or two underway. A large population would be intimidating, for sure, but there’d be the chance that someone would help her. It would have been a more welcome sight, for sure, than the ghost town stretching before her. The only building taller than one story was a watch tower at the other end of town, which was covered from the bottom up with crystals.

Like moss, crystals had grown over every building. Under the afternoon sun, the village gleamed like uncut amethyst. Snow’s eyes immediately began to water, and she threw up a hand to shield them. She hoped it would grow cloudy soon, or maybe even rain.

Needless to say, this probably wasn’t how Brine Caverns was supposed to look. Snow had seen abandoned houses and such overgrown with vines, but this place was supposed to be populated. It was still being actively supplied by Gunmetal Peak, or so she heard from Seth. Because she spent most of her time at the palace, she wasn’t always up to date on the latest news. Now she realized how sheltered she was, to have not realized what became of this place. Snow padded into the village, and upon passing through the gates, saw the bodies of several people encased in a block of crystal.

Any hopes of restocking and getting her bearings before going into the cave proper had now been overshadowed by shock. For one moment, the path she had been following twisted around on itself and shriveled away, leaving her adrift and alone with only the sight of faces frozen in horror to keep her company.

Snow held the cat closer to her and hurried on. Every time she saw someone trapped in the crystals, she averted her eyes and felt her stomach turn. Soon enough, she had her eyes glued to the road and was navigating mostly by the periphery of her vision. The path started to come back to her then, and she followed it to the center of the village: the entrance to the caverns proper. The settlement had been built starting from here, and stretching outwards. That much is obvious from how the buildings are clustered around the mound. A small hill would be a more accurate descriptor for it. The settlement had been fairly industrialized, being a mining town and all, but the hill had been left alone and was like an oasis in the dusty streets. Tall stones with round tops, etched with whorls and runes, stuck out of the long, flowery grass. There was a great divine energy coming from it, and it was easy to imagine people in days of yore treating this place as something sacred. Did they still do that?

At that moment, Snow started to grow hungry. That often happened when she used her powers for a long time: she’d start craving something or another, or she’d get tired and want to sleep. The worst that had happened to her so far was that she ended up with a terrible migraine after searching all throughout the castle for the greenhouse keys. Seth had fussed over her like a mother hen, right down to fluffing her pillows and bringing her a mask for her sensitive eyes.

She was not done, however. Isabelle had gone into the cave, in spite of the crystals that spilled from the entrance. It gave the impression of frozen waves, not easily climbed over. Or, could she have gotten here before this calamity?

Snow went into what looked like a general store, thinking not of herself but of the limp bluff cat in her arms. There was no medicine here for animals, only Otherworlders. She would have to make due with basic first aid supplies. The ones in her pack would be for her, when she inevitably skinned her knee or bumped her head on something in Brine Caverns. Hopefully it would be just that, nothing serious.

Anyway, there was nothing she had that could deal with the dire straits this cat was in. Snow picked things off the shelves: disinfectant, bandages, and crafting sticks. A shopping basket and camping blanket would do for a bed. Her patient did not resist its new bed, nor bandage wraps or makeshift splint for its right neck and leg. This troubled Snow. Animals always struggled when being treated, no matter how much they trusted someone. There was nothing she could do about this, since this _was_ the first time she had to take care of an injured animal.

That being said, bringing it into Brine Caverns was out of the question. Whatever had happened to it could only get worse if she brought it into danger, and she got the feeling that she was about to go somewhere dangerous. The only other time she had been filled with such dread was when she had made that fateful journey across the ocean.

To experienced seamen, the high seas were terrifying enough. Maps of the open ocean also served as single-page bestiaries and warning signs, scaring off many a traveler with their detailed illustrations of the ocean life. On top of that, the weather and waves could get extreme with little warning.

Snow had gone through the infamous arctic seas with nothing but a canoe, her personal belongings, and an unparalleled sense of direction. She was now about to descend underground with the same dread that she lived with on the ocean.

She was going to do it anyway, because Ceridwen had asked, which meant that everyone else had already tried and failed to find this woman. Only now, standing at the mouth of the cave, did she wonder why they thought sending a kid like her was a good idea.

If she was terrified, then how did Isabelle feel, being either lost or spirited away down there? Snow looked back to the shaded porch of the general store, where she had left the bluff cat. There was the possibility that this might be the last thing she saw on the surface.

Snow swallowed, and stepped over the crystal barrier. Before she could hesitate any further, she broke into a run. The sunlight overhead disappeared, and the world suddenly became very small. All around her was rock: ceiling, walls, and floor, supported by the wooden beams one might find in a mine shaft. It therefore came as no surprise when she came into a wide-open area where carts and equipment were kept.

At the far end of the room was an elevator shaft, with no elevator or chain in sight. The place looked like it had been vacated in a hurry: tools had been discarded on the ground, and many of the carts were out in the open, rather than being returned to the stalls they were apparently kept in.

Snow picked up an abandoned helm and considered putting it on, but the reek of body odor was so foul that she immediately dropped it. Whoever was wearing this mustn’t have been gone for long. She wondered if she’d find the owner deeper inside. Without the proper intent, however, there was no way of knowing where they were.

Snow floated down the elevator shaft, heart sinking the lower she went. It was so dark that she couldn’t even see her hands in front of her, nor could she feel the presence of the walls around her. She put a hand out and touched cold, damp rock crusted with lichens; she kept her hand on that and waited until her feet touched something solid and metal: the top of the elevator.

Now feeling a little more balanced, she reached into her bag for her pocket lantern: a little round thing with a handle and a pinch of sunlight. This was of Snow’s creation: she had spent three days gathering enough light so that she could go into the darkest parts of the castle unafraid. She had had good sense to take it with her, though she had been under the impression that it would’ve grown dark on the way home.

With her surroundings mostly illuminated, Snow could see that the elevator had crashed. It was a mess of twisted metal and cord that made her stomach twist to look at. Elevators gave her that reaction even when they were in good working order, ever since that incident where she had gotten trapped in one for the most terrifying twenty minutes of her life.

Anyway, the rest of the cavern looked nice, all things considering. It was a treasure trove of crystal and ore, with streams that were no doubt rich with minerals and cavefish. There was a bridge over the largest stream, which led deeper into a marble quarry. She heard a waterfall in the distance, which she knew to be the direction she should go. There were lanterns on the ceiling of a professional make, but few remained operative. The phosphorescence of the precious stones was not enough to make up for it, nor the natural light of the fungi gardens.

Under better circumstances, Snow would’ve liked to tour this place and see how the miners worked. The dread in her heart had been soothed a bit by what was clearly an important place, giving her a sense that things would turn out alright.

But she would not truly rest until she had fulfilled her duty. Isabelle was lost somewhere in here, instead of the oratory in town or with her worried friends. It was also during this time that Snow became aware that she was not alone in here. She heard something that sounded like the wind howling, but there was no accompanying draft. This deep underground, she might be in danger of running out of oxygen. If worst came to worst, Snow supposed that she could dive into the river and swim her way out, relying on water rather than air to breathe.

In short, she had only been down here for a few minutes, and there were already a lot of problems. Snow took a deep breath and walked on through. The wind, but more likely the cries of some beast, echoed along the chamber walls. Snow couldn’t hear herself think over that, and the constant rush of water both near and far. She put her hands over her ears and drummed the side of her head with her fingertips as she strolled.

Well, because of the lantern, she could only cover _one_ of her ears. But it was enough. She was going in deeper, darker, further. The uneven lighting of the cave meant that sometimes she would be in near darkness, and other times almost blinded by light.

She endured it because she knew she was almost there, but that didn’t mean she liked where she was going.


	4. Chapter 4

Snow knew that if Ceridwen were aware of the dragon, she wouldn’t have sent her on this quest. But, on the other hand, the Witch was known to test her abilities in frightening ways. For example, spiking Seth’s food with allergens and seeing how fast Snow could find his medicine. Neither of them had quite forgiven her for that. Snow wanted to believe that that was the extent of her capricious ways, and that she would never send Snow into the belly of the beast. The problem was that neither Snow nor Seth had been with her for long, so she couldn’t say for sure. It could just be that because Ceridwen herself was draconic in nature, she might not see such a beast as a threat.

This wasn’t a Seldan, a species with whom Seth shared blood, evident in his tall horns, tail, and scaled limbs on an otherwise humanoid body. The creature whose home Snow had stumbled upon was a thing of yore, easily a mile long, so no matter how she angled her head, she couldn’t see its body in full. It was a long, serpentine thing with iridescent black scales and too many legs to count, with a face that looked less like a face and more like a mess of soft spines and thousands of glittering eyes. Every so often, it spewed purple flames and howled so loudly that Snow’s ears hurt.

Isabelle was in this cavern, and that was as certain as fish needing water and birds needing the sky. Snow wouldn’t be able to rest if she didn’t reach her, but there was no way she could fight a dragon. Seth could do it, or at the very least, he’d be willing. There was also the possibility that this dragon wouldn’t be interested in someone as little and insignificant as herself. She was not interested in finding out, so she kept close to the wall.

The cavern she had come into was probably big enough to fit the entirety of the Mirror Palace inside. Maybe even part of its underbelly, which was as big as the palace itself. The floor was entirely salt water, violet around the edge and fading to pale blue in the center. It rippled and splashed upon the meager shore every time the dragon bumped into the walls or ceiling, sending rocky debris falling down. Snow was in a small tunnel that wound around the perimeter, sort of like a balcony. Evenly spaced were round windows so that one could look upon the scene below. Even without the dragon to terrify her, the height was so enormous that Snow only felt comfortable crawling along on her hands and knees, hugging the wall opposite the windows. Flight was difficult for her the higher up she was, and it had as much to do with her fear of heights as it did her inexperience.

She wanted to go home, but the pull was so strong that it would’ve physically hurt to resist it. This was another drawback of her powers: not only could they exhaust her, but they could influence her thoughts. It was Ceridwen who taught her to sense that, so she could escape dangerous situations if needed.

This was, however, far more difficult if she was experiencing a strong negative emotion. It was like finding a spot on her skin and picking until it went raw: she physically could not stop herself from moving forward. Strangely enough, she found that the pull was bringing her closer to the windows. Towards the dragon. Fear surged through her as she forced herself to look out at the dragon. It dove down into the water, and emerged close to her hiding spot. She saw then that the iridescence on its scales weren’t scales at all, but crystals: thousands of them, jutting from its body like angry sores.

A little ping! went off in her head. The realization that she had found what she was looking for, whether it was as something as mundane as a pencil, or as urgent as a missing person.

Isabelle was already in this cavern. She was the dragon.


	5. Chapter 5

Snow doubled all the way back to Gunmetal Peak. What else was she to do? She could not tame a dragon on her own. Even if she could, there was no getting it out of that cavern. The only thing she accomplished, apparently, was bringing back Isabelle’s familiar: the ailing bluff cat, who she had taken with her. Burning with the shame of failure, she returned Seth’s binoculars and went upstairs to unpack.

It’s not like she didn’t find Isabelle, but she wasn’t able to bring her back. That’s pretty damning for someone with a supposedly perfect track record. When it came to her ability as a pathfinder, she wasn’t used to things being out of control. Her ice magic was like handling a wet bar of soap, so this facet of her power was supposed to be something she could rely on.

With shaky hands, she typed up a report and had Seth deliver it to Ceridwen. Seth, still leaning against the doorway, read what she printed out in troubled silence. Neither of them knew what to do. Seth, for all the talent he had with animals, had never tamed a primal dragon. No one had. To complicate things, this dragon had once been an ordinary woman.

Ceridwen was likely to know what would happen, or at least have an idea of it. However, she would not be going downstairs with Seth to meet with her. She needed to be alone to deal with the ramifications of her failure. This wasn’t just searching for a lost item, or guiding someone across town. Someone’s life was on the line.

The only good thing to come out of this situation was that they brought back Isabelle’s familiar. The bluff cat was immediately whisked away to locations unknown for treatment, much like the entire situation had been taken from Snow’s hands. She went to the alcove in her window and looked down at the forested area that had once been a neatly-trimmed courtyard. The reclaimed-by-nature aspect of the palace normally brought her comfort, but today, her anxieties could not be soothed.

The funnel next to the door—the repurposed head of a phonograph—made a whale-like noise. It was installed as an intercom, so Ceridwen could call Snow from her inner sanctum, which she never left. At least, not that Snow knew of. She looked over her shoulder, as if the woman were in the room with her.

“Seth informed me of your condition,” came the voice from the funnel. “Feeling afraid and helpless is natural, after what you have witnessed. Had I known the extent of Isabelle’s circumstances, I would have never sent you out there.”

That was just what Snow had suspected. She wiped her eyes with the corner of her sleeve.

The voice goes on: “Isabelle’s coven thanks you for locating her, even if you were unable to bring her back. Your scouting has uncovered evidence of forbidden magic used on both her and the people of Brine Caverns. Because of the isolated nature of the incident, it might have been days before anyone figured out what was going on.”

“The intelligence you gathered will save others from sharing Isabelle’s and Brine Caverns’ fate.” And with that, the funnel went silent. Ceridwen was to the point as always. She even forgot the usual social pleasantries of ‘hello’, ‘goodbye’, and ‘thank you’: mindless mistakes that would make people think she was being intentionally rude. Snow was like that, too, and that’s what made it easy for them to understand each other. That blindness towards social cues also drove Seth up the wall, and no doubt he was scolding Ceridwen—his superior!—for her choice in wording.

Snow had better go downstairs and put a stop to their bickering. She still felt awful, but she got up anyway and put on her slippers. And then away she went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really had no idea what I was going while writing this. I don't know who cursed Isabelle and the Brine Caverns, nor do I know the members of her coven or why I gave her a familiar. But I guess that's fine? This was meant to be experimental, anyway, even if it took FOREVER to finish. It leaves room for a continuation, if I ever want to do that :P


End file.
